Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

She set sappers to work their mattocks, digging trenches and holes to founder charging horses, while others cut small ditches along the stream to spread the water and make the ground softer. The archers went into the forest to fashion stakes.

As the morning passed and afternoon came on, Ki noticed how often Tamír looked south, watching for the lookouts she’d left behind at Remoni. There was still no word of the ’faie.

They were talking with the sappers, when some of the men behind them let out a shout and pointed up the hill. Ki caught a glimpse of a horseman before the intruder wheeled and galloped back out of sight.

“That’ll be one of Korin’s scouts,” said Ki.

“Shall we go after him, Majesty?” Nyanis called.

Tamír grinned. “No, let him go. He’s spared me the trouble of sending a messenger. Nikides, fetch your pen and call for a herald. Lutha, you and Barieus ride back to the lookouts. And tell Arkoniel I want to speak with him.”

“They’ve done well,” Ki murmured, watching the pair swing up into the saddle and gallop off. Lutha had let Ki see the stripes on his back that morning. They were healing well enough, but a few of the deeper cuts had pulled open and bled on the long hard journey over the mountains. Barieus wasn’t faring any better. Both were wiry and stubborn as ever, though, and would have taken another flogging rather than utter a complaint.

Tamír followed them with her eyes, too. “Korin is a fool.”

The sun was sinking behind the clouds when Korin neared Tobin’s line. Caliel was still weak, but had insisted on riding with him. Tanil, though left a bit simpleminded by what the Plenimarans had done to him, was just as stubborn.

Korin called a halt and rode ahead with Wethring and his guard to assess the ground.

Topping a rise, he saw Tobin’s army encamped a mile or so on, between the cliffs and the forest.

“So many,” he muttered, trying to estimate the numbers with her. It was difficult in the waning light, with them all bunched together like that, but it was a larger force than he’d expected.

“Not many horse, though,” said Porion. “If you claim this high ground, you have the advantage.”

“Tamír, look there,” Arkoniel said, pointing toward the hill again.

Even through the rain, Tamír knew Korin by the way he sat his horse, as much as by the standard flapping in the breeze behind him. She recognized Caliel beside him, too. Without thinking, she raised a hand to wave to them. She knew Korin wouldn’t see her, on foot among the others, but she still felt a pang when he wheeled his horse and disappeared over the crest of the hill. She closed her eyes as a tumult of conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm her. Sorrow and guilt struck deep as memories of all those happy years together flooded back. That it should come to this!

A warm hand found hers and she looked up to find Arkoniel close beside her, shielding her from the eyes of the others.

“Steady, Majesty,” he whispered, giving her an understanding smile. She felt strength return to her, though she couldn’t be sure if it was his magic doing it or his friendship.

“Yes. Thank you.” She squared her shoulders and waved the herald over. “My cousin the prince has arrived. Carry your message and return with his reply.”

Korin and his generals sat their horses at the forest’s edge, looking out at his cavalry spread across the grassy plain above the sea. Beyond them, lightning forked down from the lowering clouds over the water. A moment later the distant rumble of thunder rolled in.

“This is no sort of weather to be fighting in, with night coming on,” Porion advised.

“You’re right. Give the order to make camp.”

Out of the gathering murk, a lone rider dressed in the blue-and-white coat of a herald appeared, holding his white baton aloft. Alben and Moriel rode out to meet him and escorted him to Korin.

The herald dismounted and bowed deeply to Korin. “I bring a letter from Queen Tamír of Skala, to her beloved cousin, Korin of Ero.”

Korin scowled down at him. “What does the false queen have to say?”

The herald drew a letter from his coat. “ ‘To my cousin, Korin, from Tamír, daughter of Ariani, of the true line of Skala. Cousin, I stand ready to do battle with you, but know that I make you this last offer of amnesty. Put aside your anger and your arms. Give up your claim to the throne and let us be friends again. You have my most sacred oath, by Sakor, Illior, and all the Four, that you, your lady wife, and the child she bears will be held in proper honor among my court, as Royal Kin. The nobles who follow you will be granted clemency, and retain both lands and titles. I call upon you, cousin, to put aside your unlawful claim and let there be peace between us.’ ”

The herald offered him the letter. Korin snatched it away, holding a corner of his cloak over it to shield it from the rain. It was Tobin’s hand, and his seal. He looked to Caliel, expecting some comment, but his friend just looked away, saying nothing.

Korin shook his head and let the parchment fall. “Take back this answer, herald. Tell my cousin I will meet him tomorrow at first light at the point of my sword. All who fight in his name will be branded as traitors and forfeit all lands, titles, and their lives. No quarter will be given. Tell him also that I come without wizards. If he is honorable, he will not employ his own against me. Finally, give him my thanks for allowing Lord Caliel and my squire to return to me. They fight at my side. Tell him this message comes from King Korin of Skala, son of Erius, grandson of Agnalain.”

The herald repeated the message and took his leave.

Korin pulled his cloak tighter around him and turned to Porion. “Pass the order to set up tents and serve hot food. We’ll rest dry tonight.”

Tamír assembled her marshals and captains before her tent to hear Korin’s reply. Everyone was silent for a moment when he’d finished.

“Cal’s in no shape to fight!” Lutha fretted. “And Tanil? What’s he thinking?”

“It’s out of our hands.” Tamír sighed, equally dismayed at the thought of meeting them in battle. “I wish now I’d locked them up in Atyion until this was over.”

“You wouldn’t have been doing either of them any favor,” Lynx replied. “They’re where they wanted to be. The rest is with Sakor.”

“Do you believe what he says, about having no wizards with him?” she asked Arkoniel. “I can’t imagine him leaving Niryn behind.”

“We’ve seen no sign of him, or any magic around Korin, beyond the wards Niryn has had on him all these months,” Arkoniel replied. “Wait! Surely you don’t mean to honor his condition?”

“I do.”

“Tamír, no! You’re already outnumbered—”

“How much could you really do?” she asked, looking around at the wizards. “I haven’t forgotten what you did for me at the gates of Ero, but you told me yourself that it took all your combined strength for one great assault. I saw how it exhausted you.”

“But a focused attack, as we did during the second raid?”

“Are you offering to assassinate Korin on the field for me?” She shook her head at their silence. “No. I won’t win the crown that way. You wizards have been a great help to me already. Without you, I would not be here. But Illior chose me, a warrior. I’ll meet Korin honorably, and win or lose honorably. I owe the gods and Skala that, to wipe clean the sins of my uncle.”

“And if he is lying about having wizards?” Arkoniel demanded.

“Then the dishonor is on his head and you can do as you like.” She took his hand. “In all the dreams and visions I’ve had, my friend, I have not seen magic giving me victory. ‘By blood and trial,’ the Oracle said. Korin and I grew up together as warriors. It’s only right that we settle this our way.”